


The Broken Unsaid Pact

by TheValiant (2Priyal_Yadav5)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Gen, Major character death - Freeform, OT4, OT5 Friendship, Original Character Death(s), Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-09-27 22:12:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10053707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Priyal_Yadav5/pseuds/TheValiant
Summary: "Whatever the souls are made of, his and mine are the same."  each one had recited in his mind, a fond twinkle in his eye - the fondness, he had only for his boys. They were to be together forever, like one of them Disney movies really, forever and ever. The pact had been made, eyes set, determined to be together and keep the promise he had made.Only to come five years later, one was to separate himself.  Tears were shed, curses and vicious words, like daggers were thrown, even hatred and loathing were felt - but that was all in the past. They had never forgotten and would never forget the line from "Wuthering Heights"  that they recited like a mantra, their souls were one. This exit was permanent, but they were still going to see one another.But, what was to happen when someone broke the pact and made a permanent exit again, only this time meeting, talking or even seeing them was impossible?ORThe one where Niall has left them and  even being mad at the Irish is pointless.





	1. M 'Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> My first published work here. Please do comment and tell me how you find it. 
> 
> To the moon and back,  
> Priyal  
> 

A year into the hiatus, a year of solo work and Niall had somehow managed to make his way back to Made In the AM, the album that One Direction had given their beloved directioners as a peace offering - something to hold onto while the lads were trying to do somethings on their own. It had been stashed very carefully like the other 4, in a cardboard box under his bed (real mature you would say, but hey he really couldn't think of another place) and he had taken the entire box to this weekend trip he was going for, his nostalgia hitting hard. Sure they were still friends and would talk or meet every other week, but making his own music had reminded him of all the times he had 4 others and then later 3 others to flatter him with compliments while recording just because they could and all the times they had boosted his morale with their cheeky comments and lifted his spirits with their stupid inside jokes.

So, here he was today, driving back from the little country house he owned in Haworth, Keighley, humming along to all his albums and occasionally the radio, remembering all the fond times he had had with his beloved lads. He was now on the very last album and very close to London, almost seeing the big city ahead. Why he had chosen to go to the village on a freezing January weekend, was confusing to even him - maybe just to escape the city and all its hustle. Even on the break, he had been on the run for months, working his arse off after the few weeks of his vacation and now he just really craved a day away from the city. No one knew about it, he was just going to vanish for the week and then come back, a quick getaway. No one even knew about this country side home, no one except his family. He had told Liam before leaving though - you could never be safe enough - but didn't give him any details other than when he would be back. They were all going to have a nice hang out later, something they hadn't done in a while with Harry and his movie, Louis and his baby and Liam and his missus.

He was now about an hour away from town and the roads were pretty slippery, the black ice having found a new home on the roads, but Niall had nothing to worry about, he was driving as slowly as his mind would allow, or so he had thought.

The music in the car was reaching down to his heart and Niall’s mind raced back to his family, who he hadn’t seen in a long while now. He was missing his Ma and his dad and Greg and Denise and little 3 year old Theo and his boys and basically his entire life from 2 years ago. The music was forcing him to relive all his memories with his boys, even as far back as the X-Factor days when they were just a group of five goofy idiots trying their hands at something they only knew the glamour of. His eyes turned a little misty as he thought of the good ole’ days and he would have had more time to think about it, had he not been forced to maneuver the car out of the way of another speeding vehicle that he really hoped didn’t crash into him or anything else, really.

Just as he managed to get out of the way, his mind registered another thought, a much more terrifying one than earlier. How was he ever going to get the car back in control on this slippery road?

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

If ever asked to recall what had happened, Niall wouldn’t be able to do so even if it meant that he would live longer.

As he slowly began coming to his senses, he could feel an immense pain in his chest, as if something was absolutely, relentlessly crushing it. His head felt like he had smoked weed for 2 weeks straight and his eyelids were as if made of lead. He could feel blood running down the length of his biceps and both sides of his face, and could feel the dashboard crushing his feet. His face felt as if it had been set on fire with the cuts that were noticeable because of the chilly winter air, trying to freeze his own blood to his body.

At this point, even with his barely conscious self, Niall knew that there was no surviving this until help came in the extreme near future and as he mumbled a few cries for help into the cold, dark night, he knew it was futile: there was no sign of habitation for the next five miles and that it was too late for anyone to be using this countryside road for anything. And unless his voice had been loud enough to be heard five miles ahead (illogical, he knew, but hey, a man can hope) he was stuck here, slowly bleeding and freezing to his death. His life had already flashed in front of his eyes and now he lay, barely conscious, listening to his three best friends and himself sing the last lines of “If I could fly” play on the radio which had miraculously survived the wreck that he probably wouldn’t.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He didn’t know when he passed out or when he came through again, but this time, he could feel the hustle and bustle around himself and the cold seemed far more subdued than it had when he was first awake. There was a sound of blatant beeping, which was getting faster and faster and honestly more annoying by the minute. His heavy chest was now beginning to feel more and more painful by the second, his breaths becoming more labored and he could feel the perspiration forming on his head, the salt water stinging the cuts and bruises on his face.

“The patient is going into cardiac arrest, I need you to …”

The voice died away, as his breaths suddenly became more and more shallow and yet made him feel more comfortable than even the deep ones he had taken while sharing a moment with his boys. A cold tingle like eucalyptus oil, spread across his chest, making it considerably lighter and Niall feel more relaxed than he had felt in a while. His conscience was slowly expanding, like a substance on heating, only his body was becoming cooler and he was slowly being lulled into a deep sleep as though he were a baby again and his Ma was humming to him that one lullaby that managed to put him to sleep even in adulthood.

Suddenly, his world came to, as everything making him feel light and happy stopped abruptly and he slowly felt himself go back again, the various ached returning and his chest becoming molten lava again. There was a lot of babbling he could hear, and yet not decipher and a lot of shrieks that he just wanted to stop. Now that the beautiful and extremely missed cold tingle of eucalyptus oil was gone, his head had begun pounding like it was the big ben at 12 o’clock each day. Amidst of all the chaos, he heard a vaguely familiar voice babble something and focused his mind on guessing who it was.

“Ma or Dad” he thought - impossible, they’re back home in Ireland.

“Greg or Sean” – impossible. Think Houston, think.

“Harry” - nah, back in Cheshire enjoyin’ life with his Mam and beloved Gems.

 “Zayn” – alphabetically the last person on the emergency call list – hence last to be called in case of one – scratch that one off the list too, Sherlock.

“Louis” – definitely nope – doin’ interviews in America with that DJ, what was his name again? Derek, nah Madison – it’s a girl’s name Poirot, girl’s name - uhh... Steve! Steve Aoki.

“Liam” – first person to be called – present in town- keeps his phone on all the time.

The voice, Niall had deciphered belonged to Liam, his precious Lima bean who was trying to talk to him and aiming at getting a reply from the now brunette hospital ridden bloke. In Niall’s defense, he had tried to concentrate really hard on what Liam was trying to say, but his mind was drifting elsewhere and the pain was making it terribly hard to concentrate on anything but itself. His mind somehow wove its way far back to the time they had all made the pact to never separate from one another.

“Whatever the souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” he had recited in his mind while giving his band mates the fondest look of all times. It had been Zayn’s idea to use the quote; always the avid reader he had suggested this particular one from Wuthering Heights, for it meant so much and said so much in one simple sentence. And Niall had agreed to the pact because really, why would he ever want to leave his boys and go? The pact had never seemed harder to break than today, when all he wanted do was break it and leave.

The same shallow breaths began overcoming his breathing again and the cold tingle came back, relaxing his bones, making his comfort level reach a phenomenal high and make the world seem more distant than ever. An image of his family had passed through his mind and Niall’s darling mam began humming the beautiful lullaby again. In a land far away from where he was, at a time much before the present, he would have tried to pull through, tried to stop it, this; but here he lay, reciting the line again in his mind, feeling all the emotions that Catherine must have felt and saw an image of all his boys smiling more brightly than ever and felt himself relax even more. He was so sorry that he was breaking the unsaid pact, but he was so tired and sleepy and his mam’s humming was lulling him to sleep and he finally gave into the temptation, only mumbling a “M ‘Sorry” to whoever would listen and letting the nice eucalyptus oil like tingle take him under its influence.


	2. The Fondest Smile on his Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam James Payne has always been like the protective older brother of the group. This is Liam's perception of Niall's condition.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the extremely late update, but I have had a lot on my plate. Please do comment and tell me how you find it.  
> P.S. Listen to Mercy by Shawn Mendes and Gone Gone Gone by Phillip Phillips
> 
> To the moon and back,  
> Priyal  
> 

With “Say you won’t let you” playing in the background and his missus slow dancing with him, Liam’s mind couldn’t have been more at peace. His solo work was developing at a slow yet wonderful pace. His baby was due in a few months. His friends and family were contended in their own lives and Liam, he was living his best life. Today, the only thing on his mind was the nice lads’ hangout that was going to take place the week after. 

In all reality, he missed his boys. Don’t get him wrong, he loved the missus and the whole idea of personal space but it had been over a year since they had performed together and Liam just really wanted them to do something together again. He missed his goofy leprechaun, his idiotic curly, his near arch enemy and the tan boy with the dark eyes. Speaking of the boys, apparently Niall had used the weekend to getaway for a while. Liam, however, had no idea where or why. All Niall had told him was that he would be back by tomorrow and had given him a call from wherever he had been in the evening today and had told him that he would call Liam in about the next two hours when he reached home. The problem, however, was that it had been more than a half hour since when Niall’s call was due and Liam was getting extremely worried. 

As the song changed to This Is Gospel, Liam smiled at his beautiful girlfriend and then proceeded to help her to the couch and picked up his phone to call the leprechaun. The first try went in vain, the second reached his voicemail and by the time the fifth one ended with Niall’s chirpy voice singing Little Mix’s “How you Doin’”, Liam’s frustration was growing beyond his control. It was now an hour and half beyond the time Niall was supposed to call at and with the black ice and what not, Liam’s mind could not make its peace with this delayed phone call. 

Cheryl had tried her level best to try and soothe his paranoia, but Liam wasn’t going to be calm until he spoke with the Irish. He huffed in annoyance as he sat down on the couch, a Sherlock episode now playing on the telly, his eyes forming tears of frustration. Niall was never one to not take his calls. As John Watson was rightly telling Irene Adler about Sherlock Holmes, “He is Mr. Punchline. He will outlive God trying to have the last word.” Liam was thinking about how that particular line was applicable to his Irish best friend. 

He lifted his phone again to call Niall, hoping to somehow get through this time, but was interrupted with a call from the very person he was trying to get through to for the past entire hour and a half. He took the call as a sense of warm relief filled his heart and left to the room to block out the sounds of the telly and to not wake up his beautiful girlfriend.

“Jesus Christ! Niall James Horan! Do you have the first idea how long I have been trying to get through to you? If you were going to reach later than expected, you should have sent a text! You utter clot, I have been worried to the point of vexation and nausea. What excuse are you going to give me now?!”

The other side kept silent as Liam ranted and then for a few seconds even after he was finished.

“Hello? Way to go mate! I like your new philosophy: first do not call, then when you finally do call, do not speak at all. Niall James would you be so kind as to take the pain of talking?!”

“Mr. Payne, this is Erica Thomas from the Royal Medical Center. I regret to inform you that Mr. Horan was brought here a little over a half hour ago in critical condition. I request you to come down here as quickly as possible.”

Liam’s world seemed to have stopped in a split second. Two minutes ago he was yelling at his best mate and now here he was clutching the kitchen island for support and hoping that his legs would not give out. The woman on the other side was repeatedly trying to get a response out of him and Liam was trying to ask her whether or not to assume the worst. Somehow he found it in himself to muster up the courage and energy to ask the question he was dreading to ask.

“Is Niall okay? Will he be okay?”

“I apologize for my inability to give out information on the patient Sir, but I can tell you that our doctors are trying their level best.”

“Can you please text me the address of the hospital, I will be there as quick as I can.” 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Liam had never quite driven that fast or jumped as many red lights as he had today, but he had to make sure his Nialler was okay or at least was going to be. Liam was furious with him even if he was feeling more concerned than ever. The little bastard was most probably driving too fast and had forgotten about the black ice on the roads. What was Liam going to do without him, he had no idea. Now, someone would say that he had his family, his other band mates, his girlfriend and an entire lot of great people, but that did not mean Niall gone was not going to leave a big hole in his heart. 

‘If he – No. When he gets better, I am going to kill him for not driving safely.’ He thought. The entire drive to the hospital was nerve wracking and with the first step into the hospital, a sense of dread settled into his heart, as if something was just not right. What if it was too late? The terrible feeling only seemed to settle in deeper as he inquired about the lad and with every step that he took towards the hospital room, his mind kept sending him a red alert signal, as if to say “ABORT MISSION. TURN AROUND AND WALK STRAIGHT OUT.” 

As he stood in front of the hospital room, he could feel his heartbeat in the tip of his fingers. This was it. Liam definitely did not want to see his beloved Nialler hurt or in pain, but it seemed like the only option. His Irish needed him. He pushed the door and walked in, the sight in front of him utterly and completely breaking his heart. On the white bed lay a limp Niall, tubes going in and out of him, his head in bandages, various cuts going down his face and the length of his biceps, his feet in bandages as well and a deep purple bruise on his chest. The doctors worked on him, trying to resuscitate him, as he flat lined in front of Liam. For some reason he was not asked to leave or kicked out and Liam took it as an opportunity to encourage his best mate to try and come through. He tried again and again calling out to Niall, screaming his name and holding his limp hand, rubbing it slowly and then mumbling encouragements to his mate to try and come through. And to Liam’s completely welcome surprise, he did. 

He came through for a glorious few seconds or was it minutes, Liam couldn’t really tell, but he did come through. He came through, gave Liam a glimpse of his ocean blue eyes, although he looked far away and distant and yet somehow triumphant. He came through for those few glorious seconds, only to breathe heavily. He came through for those few glorious seconds, only to leave again with a mumbled apology, nothing elaborate, just an “M ‘Sorry” and with the fondest smile on his face. 

What did Liam do when this happened? He shook. He shook Niall violently, shook his own head violently, his hands shook violently, followed by his lips and then the realisation set in his mind. Gone was the lad that he called one of his best mates. Gone was the lad he had spent some of the best times with. Gone was the beautiful lad that he was so fond of. Gone was the lad he had taken the oath with, the lad he had made his pact with.

It was as if the room, the lifeless boy, the doctors who were still trying, the nurses who were shaking their heads, his phone that was ringing and the steady beep of the heart monitor were making his head spin at a rate he knew to be impossible and his heart pound as if it were being molded into another shape. He felt nauseous and utterly and completely disheveled. His best friend was gone, never to comeback and the mere thought of it was enough to make Liam run.

He ran and ran and ran until he was out of the hospital, ran till he stood near his car in the parking, ran till his knees gave out and his breathing shallowed to the point of Niall’s last breaths. He then retched, feeling sick to his stomach, the nausea from earlier catching up. He vomited all that he had eaten in the day and threw up until nothing was left in his stomach and then dry heaved till it hurt to even breathe shallowly. He had hoped that this would help alleviate some of the pressure in his throat but here he was clawing at his throat as the lump in it constricted his airflow and then he screamed out as loud as he possibly could.

Liam was never going to talk to his beloved band mate again. He was never going to hear his boisterous laughter again. He was never going to see him smile again. He was never going to play fool to his mindless tricks again. He was never going to perform with him again, was never going to scold him again, and was never to cry with him again, or console him again. Liam had lost the beautiful person that was Niall and the last thing to hold on to was the pact that he had made with the boys all that time ago. 

“Whatever the souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” He recited out loud in the air, as he walked back to the hospital, tears cascading down his cheeks. The relief it brought only lasted a few seconds because a terrible truth crossed his mind just as he entered the hospital again. He was to tell the other lads, Niall’s family and everyone else in the world that their precious Nialler, the rambunctious, carefree yet so caring and gentle lad had gone on a voyage from which he would never return.


	3. Black is the colour of the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis William Tomlinson has always loved his best friends way more than it is healthy. This is Louis' perception of Niall's condition.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The newest chapter of this fan fiction has been put up. As an apology for the last one being more than a month late, this one is a little longer. I hope you like it. Please do comment and tell me how you find it.  
> P.S. listen to This is Gospel by P!ATD and Just Hold On while reading this.
> 
> To the moon and back,  
> Priyal

“They don’t know that we know that they know we know!” Phoebe told Rachel and Joey on the telly and the room seemed to be getting colder with every passing second. With little Freddie sleeping on his chest, the song doing phenomenally well, his newly rekindled relationship and everyone else he cared about doing well in their lives, Louis would say he was happy, well as happy as he could get with the departure of his mother. He missed her from the depth of his heart and would give just about everything to have her back.

She had told him to move on and he was trying his level best to, doing more and more interviews with Steve, keeping in touch with his best friends and just being there for his family when they needed him the most. His boys checked on him every once in a while, making sure to tell him to hold on and keep his strength up, and would try and make him laugh just so they knew he would be okay. Louis adored that and literally fawned over the fact that his friends were ready to go to any ends just to see him smile. He was flying back to London tomorrow, where all of them were having a nice lads’ hangout the week after and he couldn’t possibly be any more excited than he was now.

As his little darling stirred in his sleep, Louis stroked his back gently and softly hummed to lull him back to sleep. Oh how he adored his little baby; he was completely unplanned and yet Louis wouldn’t change anything for the world. The little boy meant the world to him and he was ready to do anything and everything to protect him. His mum and almost everyone who had seen Freddie said that he looked exactly like his father and that made Louis’ chest swell with unexplainable pride till it was at least double its size. The fact that he had helped create something so wonderful, beautiful and utterly pure made Louis incredibly happy. He could feel his happiness fade as a deep sense and sort of unshakable sense of gloom set upon his heart. He was used to it though, it came along each time he thought of his mum and then randomly following his mum’s departure, but for some reason the gloom left him extremely unsettled as if something had gone or was going horribly wrong. With Chandler telling Monica that Phoebe was not going to back down, Louis laid the little lad down on the giant couch, placing a couch cushion adjacent so he wouldn’t fall. He went to the kitchen to get another beer for himself and just as he returned to the room, his “Victorious” ringtone began blaring, his baby stirring at the sound.

Louis hurried to pick the phone up, slightly irritated at the fact that it was nearing ten in the evening in America. He rushed to the balcony to take a call, a precaution he had learnt to take when he didn’t want Freddie to wake up. He saw that the caller was Liam and his annoyance just increased. Liam better have a good reason to call; if he had simply forgotten the time difference, he was going to murder former. It wasn’t as if he was doing anything productive, he wasn’t even sleeping and it wasn’t even very late, but Liam was intruding on his “F.R.I.E.N.D.S.” time and his adoring of his baby.

“Hello?” his voice sounded so hoarse, it surprised even him. It sounded as if Louis had been sleeping for ages and had been rudely woken up from his sleep. Louis waited for several seconds for an answer and when he got none, began cursing Liam.

“Do you even have any idea what time it is here? Wait a minute, Liam? Isn’t it like six in the morning there? I swear to Jesus Christ if you have butt dialled me, I will come there now, I don’t care if I have to make an unauthorized portkey or have to bloody aparate all the way to kick your puny little arse. Liam?! Mate you the-”

“Louis, I hav-“

“And here I was beginning to think I might have to arrange for your funeral. Now would be so kind as to tell me what in the name of god and every other holy thing on this planet made you call me at the arse-crack of dawn?”

“It’s just that I don’t know ho-“

“Just speak would you!” Louis interrupted again, Liam was beginning to get on his gloomy nerves, “What is up wit-“

“I would be able to get my bloody point across if you didn’t interrupt me every 2 words!” 

Louis waited in silence for Liam to talk. He knew he was being difficult, but Liam was irritating him to the point of anger. The feeling of gloom was turning to a terrible sense of dread and Louis had the utter urge to stop Liam from speaking and to just hang up on him. But Liam’s anger always meant something and Louis knew he couldn’t just do that, no matter how badly he wanted to. 

“Louis, uh I called to tell you that… uh… um… Niall had taken a small weekend getaway and had gone away for a while to, you know, take a break from the city life and the hectic schedule and everything, you know. Just to get some fresh air, like not the polluted London air, not that he does not like it here, but, umm… you know… to sort of clear his head and everything and…”

Liam was full on rambling now and it was not helping with Louis’ dread. He was beginning to anticipate the results of this conversation but decided not to jump to conclusions directly.

“Why are you telling me all this Liam? Are you feeling okay? Are you trying to tell me Niall isn’t going to be there for our hangout later? Why can’t that boy just call me?”

The other side remained silent for a while as Louis could hear a few coughs and Liam trying to make up his mind. That boy and his nervousness, what was he ever going to do? 

“Yeah, umm… he isn’t going to be there at the hangout- No! Technically the hangout has to be cancelled. Look, I can’t think of a subtle way to do this. Earlier this evening, Niall was due in London and didn’t call or pick up his phone for a while.” Liam took a slight pause in the middle, taking a breath, making Louis hold one himself. 

“The point is, I got a call later from his number, but it was this lady telling me that Niall had gotten into an accident and to come as quickly as possible to the hospital and then when I went there, he was in a really critical condition and the thing is that they tried everything Louis, but umm… He… uh… he didn’t… uh… He umm… Oh sweet Jesus, why isn’t there an easier way to do this? Why does this have to be me, huh? Anyway, Niall, he didn’t… He couldn’t come through.” 

The breath that Louis had held, now constricted his throat, making it impossible to say anything without screaming bloody murder. Liam had to have lost his mind. Niall was fine; he had to be. Louis had talked to him yesterday and the lad had been so excited about the hangout and everything and there was no way that the man on the other side was telling him the truth. Just as Louis was about to scream at Liam, that is when it struck him.

“Liam James Payne, you filthy liar. Are you drunk? This is a bloody set up isn’t it? A master prank, because I prank all of you all the time: A prank to prank the master prankster?” He laughed slightly at the fact that he had actually even considered what had Liam had said held some truth, that his best mate was gone.

“Call Niall, I want to talk to that bastard.” Louis waited for Liam to put the boy on line, so the two could laugh it off, but the anticipated did not happen. Instead, Liam just sniffed and then began to speak again.

“He isn’t here Louis. This is not a prank. He won’t talk.”

“Of course he isn’t and of course it is not and of course he won’t talk. Tell him good one though, won’t you Liam? You really got me this time, you really did. Good one Liam. Good one. I’ll call you after I land tomorrow and I’ll text you the flight details. Good night. Oh and Liam, good one again.” With that he hung up on his best friend and went back inside, cutting off the power to the telly. 

He picked his little lad up, with whom it was his last night for a teensy little while and went to bed to wake up the next morning for his flight.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The flight had been long and exhausting, 10 hours and 30 minutes to be exact, but Louis wasn’t feeling exhausted, he was feeling hot and absolutely on the edge. The unsettling feeling of dread had not left him last night and as they landed London, it had only seemed to settle deeper into his bones. He could not help but think of the last phone call he had received the night before and what he would do if it were true – ‘Stop’ he reminded himself out loud, ‘Niall is as well and alive as Freddie. He is fine and probably here to greet me and laugh at me for my stupidity.’

Niall was okay, he had to be or else Louis was going to kill him. The mere thought of Niall gone had his legs feeling weak and mind foggy. He made his way through Heathrow, his eyes looking for a familiar face in the crowd when he walked out of the baggage area and hoped that his fantasy of his best mate coming to pick him up was true. His eyes scanned the mass of bodies, face after face of nameless strangers, not a single familiar one and somehow he felt pacified even though he had to give up on his search. Just as he was about to make his way out, Louis heard a soft call of his name and as he turned around look who it was, his eyes were met with Liam’s. Liam’s eyes were bloodshot as if he had not slept in ages or had been crying for hours. 

As Louis went in to hug the boy, a huge smile on his face, Liam’s eyes seemed to sadden even more. Louis waited for him to say something and when it didn’t come, he pulled away, only to look at Liam’s face smiling brightly. “Where’s Niall?” he asked and Liam seemed to only dull more, “Where is he? That prank yesterday was beautifully planned. I need to congratulate him.” 

“I’ll take you to him.” That was all Liam had replied with, his voice hoarse and his eyes watering up just a bit and as Louis followed him out to his car, he couldn’t help but feel as if he was knew something and yet he was not ready to accept it. The car ride to where ever Liam was taking him was long and Louis began to think of the hangout later. He was going to see the three of them the week after and possibly the fourth too, if he agreed to come that is. As the car came to a halt outside a place Louis didn’t recognize, his heart began thumping against his chest.

They walked right into the great building; Louis did not look around just down and followed Liam’s feet, not listening when Liam talked to a woman and didn’t think anything of the place until Liam stopped outside a room and Louis practically crashed into him. Liam opened the door to the room and walked in, not quite looking at the bed and Louis had been in too similar of a situation and still did not anticipate a thing. Yet his mind raced like crazy as he stood at the foot of the bed, where someone lay completely covered by a white sheet and he knew that he shouldn’t have lifted the sheet and yet he did. 

Niall was not gone he had thought and yet he lay on this great white bed, with cuts on his face and his arms, with the fondest smile on his lips and a peaceful look on his face, as if he were just sleeping. But he was just sleeping and that was the truth. He was alive and well and for some reason his chest didn’t move with his breaths, his mouth didn’t open to drool in his sleep like usual and during the entire time that Louis was in the room, Niall did not move, not so much as his little finger. 

Louis wasn’t having it. This was all a setup, a prank to prank the master prankster and yet his eyes seemed to betray the 25 year old. Louis had to see those blue eyes to feel calmer and when he looked up, Liam was in the corner of the room, on his knees, his eyes watering like crazy and the entire room began sweltering with extreme heat even in the January cold. It was as if he was in a desert, the sun beating down on his head with all its force and energy and he could feel the life being sucked out of him in that very room as he stared at his best mate who was sleeping in the great white bed, not moving at all. 

The machines in the silent room began to sway as he shook from what he knew to be disbelief and the image of both Niall on the bed and Liam crying in the corner was blurring slowly, everything smudging together and the room seemed to have begun to become darker and darker every passing second. His breathing shallowed greatly, his eyes still unbelieving and unwatering and his legs shaking greatly as he fell to his knees as well. Niall could not have gone. He wasn’t one to leave his friends hanging and he wasn’t one to go anywhere alone for he hated the feeling of isolation. He was not gone, NO, Louis refused to believe that. As the last remnants of the room and his friends smudged together, the dark tinge in his eyes became a great dark shade of grey and eyes felt heavier and heavier by each passing second.

Each second seemed to be like an eternity and each time he blinked his eyes to clear his mind it seemed like someone hammered a nail into his head. His eyes didn’t clear their fog and his mind did not clear its unease and all that seemed possible was to convince Liam that what they were seeing was not true and this was just a dream. His thoughts that were previously hell bent on denying what his eyes were seeing, now raced back to the pact they had made all those years ago. “Whatever the souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” Louis had promised with all his heart. He knew that Niall would never break that pact, never in eternity. He had promised his boys that he would be there for them and so had the others and Niall just couldn’t do that, he refused to believe it. The world was the darkest shade of grey now and he could feel his breathing become shallower than earlier.

“Niall wouldn’t bre…” was all he managed to say before the entire room was taken over by a dark gloom and his vision had turned to the darkest black he had ever seen and the entire feeling had overtaken him and he could not help but think, before he was lost to it, how black was the colour of the dark. 


	4. What the eyes will no longer see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Edward Styles was the closest to the Irish lad. This is Harry's perception of Niall's condition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels like all I do is apologize these days, oh well, I'm sorry (again) for this being a late update.  
> Please do comment and tell me how you find it!  
> P.S. Listen to Let Her Go by Passenger and I'm a Mess by our darling angel Ed Sheeran.
> 
> To the moon and back,  
> Priyal

As he walked down towards the podium, a clean sweat broke out on his forehead and he began to have trouble breathing. Harry knew that it was not a heart attack that he was experiencing; as a matter of fact, it would have been more warmly accepted than this speech that he was being forced to deliver. The injured stares of those gathered burnt holes in the back of his head, building his anxiety and the sound of the soft sniffles, as clear as bullet shots that filled the room, made the lump in his throat more painful and nearly forced the tears out of his eyes. He patted himself mentally for choosing a place at the back, as his feet approached the podium with a slow proximity. His mind was reeling with words and phrases that he knew he would forget as soon as he set foot on the podium, but it gave him something to focus on besides the pain; and at this moment, any distraction was welcome.

He really did not want to be in this situation, or as he forced himself to believe, he was not supposed to be here. All the events that had occurred in the short span of the past 7 seven days were still unfathomable to the deepest sections of his mind and all he wanted to do was to crawl into a dark corner and wait for his favourite person to come and get him out. Where was Niall when he needed him most? Had not they promised each other about being there for the other in the darkest of the times? Harry had deemed it necessary to block out all talk of him for the past entire week.

He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Niall was the one to the break the pact, the oath they had taken six and a half years ago. “Whatever the souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” He could hear Niall’s repeat the simple phrase in his head and Harry nearly collapsed then and there. His sweet old Nialler, the 23 year old teenage heartthrob (who looked the part, but never had the arrogance, mind you) with his way too skinny legs and obsession for guitars and hatred for Louis’ messiness and really random (although totally valid) obsession with sappy Bollywood music, was a sight that his eyes would never see in all the physical glory again. To say that Harry would rather go blind than not see what the eyes will no longer see again and rather go deaf than not hear that chirpy, slightly high pitched and boisterous laugh again was an absolute understatement.

As he approached the two people who Niall loved the most in the world, he couldn’t help but notice how Niall’s brother cuddled his mother, tears streaming down both their faces and little Theo kept asking for Uncle Ni, only to get a fresh set of tears as replies from his granddad, who was holding the little boy tightly in his arms. Denise kept crying as well, Niall was like a little brother to her, he was ever so sweet, cheeky and angelic and to think of him gone was almost impossible for her to comprehend. As Harry passed by them, Maura extended her hands towards him, for relief from the overwhelming feeling of loss, he supposed. Relief: it was something he needed himself and at that moment did not have any to offer. He truly loathed Niall then, why didn’t the lad just come back, couldn’t he see how much pain and devastation this was causing? Couldn’t he see what he had done to all of them by leaving? Harry had thought that Niall hated when anyone cried, especially his mother, then why was the latter the reason for her constant tears and sobs?  

Once at the podium, he turned around to stare obliviously into the grieving eyes in the small church and as his introduction was given, he realized the amount of truth that the moment held. He felt an uneasy pull in the pit of his stomach the moment he had to talk about Niall and his memories with him, as if he were bursting the little bubble of their then intertwined lives. It had struck him earlier on, that from now he would never be able to say the “Niall James Horan is my best friend.” He would have to modify it to “Niall James Horan used to be my best friend.” Although it was just a small grammatical change, Harry could have never fathomed the amount of pain it would physically cause him to say it out loud.

He hated the boy for making him go through this. He was too young to do this, ‘but then again,’ he thought, ‘he was too young to leave us all alone here.’ No one in their wildest dreams should ever be asked to make a speech at an occasion like this. Joking about a speech like this with your friends, he realized, was probably the easiest thing to do, but when you were actually put through it, it was as if the all the pain of the world unleashed itself on you. As he talked on and on about what Niall meant to him, all that had been drilled in his brain about death went further from his grasp.

Honestly, he knew that if someone told him that he was in a better place now, he would not believe them, because his conscience had finally begun to coming to terms with Niall’s permanent exit from his life and being. He knew that there was not an ‘Elysium’ or ‘Fields of Asphodel’ or ‘Grounds of Punishment’ that her soul, or if there even existed such a thing, had been sent to. He realized that no matter what theory he had been taught or chose to follow about the dead, he would remain as a bewitching memory – or as he himself would have said in his primal tone, an uncanny anamnesis - that he would refresh from time to time with nostalgia in his heart and a bittersweet smile adorning his face.

“Niall,” he said, his voice breaking, full of barely concealed emotion, “is now a memory I am sure I will enshrine in my heart for the rest of my being. I am unsure of what I will long for more, his ability to find humor in the worst of the situations or the manner in which he could express the deepest of his feelings in the simplest of the sentences; but I am sure that I will give anything to have him give me one more cuddle or whisper something in my ear one last time, and that I will mourn this loss every day for the rest of my life. I know that the last words he ever said to me are not something witty or great, but they have a special place in my heart, just as deep as Niall; and them, I will secure with me, hearing his voice repeat them over at least once a day for just about as long as I live.” He stepped off the podium with a deep sigh and the tears he had been holding back, cascaded down his cheeks with every new thought that occurred. 

As he walked back, his mind swirled with times he knew could never be recreated; Harry fully accepted his cessation from his life. There was no more a Niall who would call him in the middle of the night - absolutely wasted – asking to be picked up from a club. There was no more a Niall who would call him crying, cursing for hours at the woman who broke his heart. There was no more a Niall who would persuade him to take him to an eatery he really wanted to try and then take hours deciding on what to eat. There was no more a Niall who would laugh or cry, or cuddle on weekends or swim in random lakes or dance around or goof around or simply lie about and talk about nonsensical things with him. The acceptance was hard, it had taken him a little over an entire week to do it, but it was better than being in denial, with everyone’s “deepest sympathies” being with you.

Unlike all the others before him, Harry had not told everyone what Niall had last said to him. He knew they would undermine the statement as something silly and it would lose all its meaning. He had told him that he was a dork, an irritating one at that, with a smile brighter than the sun itself. It was a simple sentence really, but to him, it meant the world. He knew that it held all the adoration he had for him. Although termed as an insult, the words were supplemented in an attempt to conceal the clichéd ‘you are too cute to be around here.’ Now, as Harry sat back down in the place he was occupying earlier, a soft smile crept onto his face and he whispered into the cool church air the reply he would have given Niall, “Call me a dork until you heart is contended, pretty boy. You and I both know that ‘You’ love me and I you…”.


End file.
